


We're Friends When You're on Your Knees

by gotatheory



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M, Robin tops, Wish Realm, blowjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 00:09:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10231145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gotatheory/pseuds/gotatheory
Summary: Nottingham catches Robin. In more ways than one.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry for this, guys. It's all Twitter's fault. Also a little bit of Wil Traval's and Sean Maguire's, because wish!Robin is bi as fuck and Nottingham had that whole "mine" line. Who could blame me for this after that?

Robin isn’t sure he can pinpoint exactly how it happened. How his relationship with Nottingham went from strictly hatred and running away to... whatever _this_ is now. Still hatred, he supposes, as merely seeing the man’s smug face is enough to make his blood boil.

Somewhere along the way, seeing his face started making his blood boil in _other_ ways as well. More pleasurable ways.

He’s always had an appreciation for the human form, male or female. Limiting one’s self to one or the other never made much sense, not when such pleasure could be found in both.

Still, appreciating the Sheriff of Nottingham’s form never occurred to him, certainly not when Marian was alive. Not when Robin was much more enamored with her, while Nottingham considered her some sort of possession to be wrested from him. But then illness did that for him, took her from them both, and yet the men’s rivalry continued on as Robin threw himself into his life of crime and Nottingham became more fervent in capturing him.

He’s succeeded once or twice (several times, though Robin’s always escaped). And that’s really where it all started, if Robin’s honest about it. If he really considers it. Just one night where Nottingham had thrown him into a cell, and couldn’t resist gloating about it to his face. Had gotten close to the bars, trying to intimidate him, but Robin could never be scared of this man.

A part of the thieving trade is being able to read people. To ferret out their emotions and thoughts so then one can ferret out their prized possessions. It was that ability that had Robin taking an enormous risk, reaching out with quick hands to tug Nottingham against the bars, a hand clasping his cheek to angle his head just right so their lips could meet between cold metal.

So that’s how it started, really, with a kiss and Nottingham opening his cell, eager for more. It turns out the good sheriff quite likes being pushed to his knees, turns out that Robin quite likes _seeing_ the sheriff on his knees. Enjoys the dark punch of power Nottingham’s willing submission sends through his gut.

That submission is usually Nottingham’s downfall, and Robin wonders if that’s not all part of the game they’re playing. Though Robin might try to lie to himself and say that Nottingham just gets lucky sometime when he catches him, there’s a part of him that knows it’s more than that. More than Robin suddenly being sloppy on a routine robbery.

Look, everyone needs a little release now and then, right? And there’s something about doing this with his archenemy, something about smirking at him through bars, enticing him close enough to touch.

There’s always a moment where Nottingham looks like he’s considering resisting, like he’s all too aware of how wrong these dalliances are. But then he draws closer, unlocks the cell door, and lets Robin shove him back against it, his mouth instantly on his.

Nottingham always makes this sound, this little gruff moan, when Robin kisses him, when he digs his teeth into his bottom lip. It stirs arousal in Robin, has him pressing against him harder, their teeth clacking as the kiss turns fierce.

He pulls away, sucks at Nottingham’s lip and smirks as his head falls back against the door with a muted _thump_. His eyes are tightly shut already, his mouth open in a gasp, and it’s so easy to cup his cheek and rub a thumb over swollen lips. So easy to slip that thumb into the warmth of his mouth, and Nottingham wastes no time in closing his mouth around the digit, sucking in a mimicry of the act Robin wants him to perform on a different part of his body.

“So eager, sheriff,” Robin murmurs huskily, sliding his thumb deeper into Nottingham’s mouth, provoking another low moan. He bites his own lip, withdrawing his thumb and leaning in, close enough for their lips to touch, but he hesitates. Waits for Nottingham to peel his eyes open and meet his darkened gaze. “Tell me what you want.”

He scowls in response, bites out, “You _know_ ,” and Robin chuckles.

“But I do so like to hear you admit it,” he teases, closing the space between them for another kiss. But the moment Nottingham starts to return it, he pulls away, his tongue just flicking out to brush the other man’s before he redirects his attentions to his neck. Nottingham takes direction so well, Robin muses. All it takes is his thumb pressing gently on his jaw, urging him to tip his head back, and he follows the implicit instruction.

With his throat exposed, Robin leans back in, drags his teeth against the sensitive skin of Nottingham’s neck. He shudders beautifully when Robin swirls his tongue over his fluttering pulse, gasps when Robin applies his teeth once more, nipping his flesh. The sounds he can evoke from Nottingham is enough to have him hardening in his trousers.

Kissing up to his ear, he bites down on the lobe, worrying it with his teeth and tongue and smirking when Nottingham’s hands clutch at his shoulders. Sometimes he wonders if he’s this reactive all the time, or if Robin is the only one who can do this to him. It’s probably a bit of ego at work that he likes to think he’s the only person that reduces the sheriff to this. “Take off your clothes,” he whispers once he’s released his earlobe. And then he steps back, puts enough space between their bodies that Nottingham sags against the door, Robin no longer there to hold him upright. “And make a bit of a show of it, would you?”

“Damn you,” Nottingham growls, his lust-filled eyes flashing with irritation, but his fingers are already working at the buttons and clasps of his clothes.

Robin merely smirks in response, watching as he strips. He glances over his shoulder at the rickety cot behind him, decides that yes, he’d much rather be sitting for this. He walks backwards, keeping his eyes on Nottingham as much as he can. For all his apparent anger, the sheriff has done as ordered, slowly removing articles of clothing in as much of a seductive manner as he can manage.

It’s a bit more amusing than arousing, truth be told, but Robin licks his lips anyway as Nottingham toes out of his boots and then lets his trousers and underclothes fall away from his hips. Nottingham is, of course, already hard for him, his cock standing erect despite suffering a bit of humiliation in stripping.

“Touch yourself,” he orders effortlessly, and Nottingham’s eyes flutter shut, his mouth opening in another curse. “Is that not what you want, sheriff? If only you had been a bit more forthcoming when I asked…”

Nottingham mutters something that sounds a bit like _Fuck you, Robin of Locksley_ , even as his hand dutifully wraps around his cock. Robin can’t help but grin as he assures, “In good time, sheriff. After my show.”

For a few minutes, he simply watches as Nottingham pleasures himself, studying the way he handles his own cock. Robin already knows how he likes to be touched, but a bit of a refresher never hurts, and he has to admit he makes quite the picture, leaning against a door and jerking off all because Robin of Locksley ordered him to.

“That’s enough,” he says, when Nottingham’s gasps become more frequent, his hand tugging faster and faster. “Come here.”

There are always these little moments where it seems like Nottingham will defy him. Pauses and hesitations like now, where Nottingham has stopped moving his hand, but hasn’t let go of himself yet. Where he’s breathing heavily, clearly weighing whether he wants to release into his own palm or let Robin finish the game. Sometimes Robin wonders when he’ll push him too far, when the sheriff will finally call an end to their little dalliances, but it hasn’t happened yet. It doesn’t happen now.

Nottingham releases his cock, letting out a shuddering breath as his eyes open and lock onto Robin. He steps forward, swaying a bit, but manages to keep upright and make it over to the cot.

“There’s a good man,” Robin praises, reaching a hand up to pull him down into a kiss. It’s not gentle, though they rarely are, his tongue immediately pushing past Nottingham’s lips and delving into his mouth. He moans at the warmth, at the way Nottingham sucks at his tongue and lips. He ends the kiss, leaning back and resting on his elbows as he looks up at the other man. With a nod of his head toward his own hips, he raises an eyebrow at him. “Well? You know what comes next.”

And Nottingham, Gods bless his submissive heart, sinks to his knees.

Robin bites his lip as Nottingham’s fingers undo the laces of his trousers, bracing himself so he can lift his hips off the cot. Anticipation sends tingles over his skin, watching Nottingham peel his clothes down his legs, freeing his erection. It’s Nottingham’s turn to lick his lips, his eyes centered on Robin’s cock, and then they flick up to meet Robin’s own. Robin nods, a miniscule incline of his head to encourage Nottingham to continue.

He’s the one that taught Nottingham how to do this, something that makes this all the more arousing. Something about knowing that the sheriff had never sucked another man’s cock before him makes him possessive, makes his hand cup Nottingham’s head, his fingers lightly gripping in his short hair as he lowers his mouth, his tongue flicking over the tip of Robin’s cock in a slow, teasing motion.

“Yes, just like that,” he moans, perhaps a little breathier than he intends as Nottingham wraps his lips around the head of him. His eyes slip shut, another soft moan escaping when Nottingham slips further down his cock, his tongue playing along the underside of him. Then he sucks, drawing back until he’s only holding the tip between his lips, sucking harder and Robin groans roughly, head falling back on his shoulders at the pleasure shooting through his groin.

His nails scrape against Nottingham’s scalp, fingers digging in a little harder as he urges him back down. This time it’s Nottingham moaning, a humming little thing that makes Robin’s hips twitch as he opens his mouth wider, taking a little more of him inside. “Fuck,” Robin gasps, and he holds Nottingham there, opens his eyes to look as Nottingham slips more of his cock into his mouth. “Oh yeah, take it,” he encourages, and Gods help him, as he does just that, taking Robin down his throat.

Nottingham swallows, sucks, hollowing his cheeks around him and Robin watches as long as he can, before the sensation overwhelms him. His eyes flutter shut, his hands clenching, one in Nottingham’s hair and the other in the rough sheet on the cot. Nottingham pulls back, maintains suction all the way until Robin’s cock slips free of his mouth, a ragged breath escaping him.

Robin opens his eyes once more, looking down at Nottingham on his knees, his eyes blown with lust, his mouth swollen from his kisses and his cock. Gods, he could almost come just like this. His hand moves from Nottingham’s hair, cups his cheek almost tenderly, his thumb brushing against that bottom lip of his.

Nottingham is feeling cheeky now, Robin knows; he always gets that way even when he’s on his knees, all because he’s got a talented mouth. He darts his tongue out to brush against the pad of Robin’s thumb, teeth just grazing the skin, and Robin firms up his hand, sliding it to catch his jaw.

“Again, sheriff,” he murmurs, tugging him back toward his straining erection.

He might be feeling more confident, but he still follows orders, still bends his head. He doesn’t take him back into his mouth, though, instead he trails his tongue from his tip to the root of him, swirls it in that way he knows Robin likes. Robin lets him, his hand falling away from his face as Nottingham kisses his way up and down his cock, sucking and licking in the most delightful of ways.

“That’s it,” Robin groans, fisting the sheet beneath him as Nottingham takes his cock in hand, pumping it as his mouth finds one of his balls, sucking lightly on it. “Fuck, that’s it,” he repeats, and then he’s gripping Nottingham by the hair again, urging his mouth back to his cock.

Nottingham moans as he takes him in his mouth again, sucking faster, bobbing his head as Robin presses on his skull. Robin grunts, muttering expletives as he takes him deep into his throat, and he can’t help the way his hips jerk, though he tries to control it, to not accidentally choke Nottingham.

“Oh, Gods, harder,” Robin gasps out, biting on his bottom lip hard as Nottingham does just that, and then his hand is playing with his balls, rolling them between surprisingly nimble fingers. “Bloody hell, don’t stop… I’m gonna — gonna come — _oh fuck_!” He holds Nottingham to his cock as his vision whites out, his body twitching as it floods with pleasure, a deep groan falling from his lips as he spills inside of his mouth.

His breathing is laborious as Nottingham sucks him dry, drawing out his orgasm, his tongue swirling around him until he goes soft in his mouth. Robin opens his eyes, looking down at the man between his legs, and feels a surprising punch of arousal at the sight. Nottingham’s mouth is slightly open, his tongue swiping over his glistening bottom lip, and Gods, he looks debauched in the best of ways.

“C’mere,” he husks, his voice sex-roughened and slurred, but Nottingham hears him just the same. He rises up enough to kiss him, and Robin can’t say he particularly enjoys the lingering taste of himself in Nottingham’s mouth, but he enjoys that _Nottingham_ likes it. Nottingham, who had never sucked a cock until he took Robin’s between his lips, who had at first recoiled at the taste of his come but now eagerly swallows it. “On the cot, on your knees,” he mutters against his lips, nibbling on them before he lets go.

Nottingham wastes no time in assuming the position, never wastes any time when they’ve reached this point. The point where his cock is so hard it must be aching, where he hasn’t been touched and he needs it, needs Robin to make him come, and Gods, this shouldn’t be so fucking attractive, but Robin bends over him, kissing his neck, his shoulders. Drags his teeth over the nape of his neck just to hear him groan, lightly scratches his fingers down his spine just to feel him arch against him.

“Now tell me, sheriff,” Robin whispers into his ear, flicking his tongue against the lobe, “What do you want?”

“Fuck, Locksley, just take me,” he bites out, and Robin chuckles behind him, gives him a little punishing nip for his trouble.

“Take you how?” he murmurs, sliding a hand around his hip, lightly brushing calloused fingers over his cock. Nottingham moans softly, his head falling forward as Robin takes him in hand, slowly pumping him. “Do you want to come in my hand?” His hand falls away then, the petulant gasp of _No_ that escapes Nottingham more than worth it, and he sucks a mark on the back of his neck. “My mouth?”

“Please,” he all but whimpers, voice made breathy in his desperation, and Robin decides to take some pity on him.

“Do you want my cock, Nottingham?” he asks, pulling away so he can reach into his discarded clothes.

“Yes,” he finally answers, and Robin has already retrieved the little vial of oil he keeps just for these occasions. Robin presses on his spine, maneuvering him into a better position for this, and then he’s dribbling some of the oil over his exposed hole.

“Remember to breathe,” Robin murmurs once he’s oiled his own fingers, bringing one to his hole and lightly touching him there. Just to tease at first, and to hear that sharp intake of breath Nottingham _always_ gives at that first touch. “Breathe,” he reminds, working the tip of his finger in, and they’ve done this often enough now that it doesn’t take much work before he’s working two into Nottingham’s ass.

Robin fingerfucks him, enjoying the sounds Nottingham makes, little gasps and moans that are already doing things to his cock. He’ll be back to hardness in no time when he’s got the other man writhing under him like this, his hips already rocking back into the thrust and twist of his fingers. Robin rotates his fingers a little inside of him, crooking them in a “come hither” motion, and Nottingham lets out this _sound_ , almost animalistic in his pleasure.

“Right there, huh?” he says with a little smirk, rubbing against that spot again and Nottingham strangles the sound, but it still goes straight to Robin’s cock. He riles him up further, using his free hand to stroke his own cock as it begins to harden just from Nottingham’s reactions.

“Gods,” Nottingham grunts, his fingers rhythmically squeezing and releasing the sheet, and, “Don’t stop, _fuck_ …”

So Robin stops. Slides his fingers right out of him, grinning to himself as Nottingham lets out a plaintive sound, and then he’s lightly slapping his asscheek. “On your back,” he tells him, lightly popping him again when Nottingham hesitates. “Your back, sheriff.”

“Fuck, Locksley,” Nottingham bites out, with no real ire as he flips over. His eyes are glassy with desire, his bottom lip red from repeated bites, and Gods, he looks so fuckable spread out on his back like this.

Robin leans forward, kissing him almost tenderly before he’s hiking Nottingham’s knees up, drizzling more oil over Nottingham’s ass. He spreads some over his cock, giving himself a few more strokes though he hardly needs them. Fingerfucking him has done more than enough to get him hard as a rock for this. “Ready?” he asks, and Nottingham nods.

“Gods, yes,” Nottingham moans, and then Robin’s sinking inside of him.

His eyes flutter at the pleasure as the tightness envelopes his cock, and he thrusts slowly, making sure he doesn’t go too fast. He doesn’t want to truly hurt Nottingham, though he doesn’t want to think about the absurdity of not wanting to hurt the man who hunts him for a living. Whatever it is, all that matters is the pleasure he’s feeling right now, and the pleasure Nottingham must be feeling if the sounds escaping his mouth is any indication. Robin increases his pace, speeding up and thrusting harder, adding a little twist that has Nottingham scrabbling at the cot.

“Fuck!” he gasps, and Robin opens his eyes, looking down at Nottingham’s face. This is why he had him change positions, because he wanted to watch, to see what he does to this man. This man he hates, who hates him, but here he is, on his back just so he can take his cock, and Robin bites his lip to hold in his own moan.

“S’that good?” he mutters, bending over a bit, forcing Nottingham’s knees higher, forcing his cock deeper, and Nottingham lets out that primal sound of pleasure once more. “Yeah, you want my cock just like that. Right _there_ .” He thrusts, hits that spot and Nottingham practically keens for him. “ _Fuuuuck_ , feels so good…”

Nottingham nods, doesn’t say anything but he’s a little too caught up in pleasure for words, Robin thinks. His eyes are unfocused, half-lidded, his mouth hanging open and moans falling freely as he fucks him harder.

“You gonna come, sheriff? Just like this?” he asks, rolling his hips into him, and Nottingham writhes, but shakes his head.

“I need — fucking hell, don’t — _oh Gods_ — _don’t stop_ ,” he gasps, head digging into the cot. “Need — _mmmm_ — my cock, touch — can I?” His hands twitch, and Robin smirks at how badly he needs it, but won’t touch without permission.

“No,” Robin tells him. “What if I want — oh _fuck_ yeah — want you to come like this?”

“I — _hnnmph_ — I can’t,” Nottingham says, almost like a sob, and then he’s begging. Actually fucking begging for Robin of Locksley to make him come, the words _Please_ and _Oh Gods I need it_ and _Please touch my cock_ spilling from him like his mouth was made for them.

Robin kisses him then, doesn’t know how he holds off from coming himself when Nottingham is this desperate beneath him. He sucks at his lips, swallowing his groans, and he drives his cock inside of him, again, again, Nottingham’s breath hitching in pleasure, and finally he takes pity on him. He pulls away from his mouth, brings his clean fingers to Nottingham’s lips, sliding them inside and getting them nice and wet before he wraps them around Nottingham’s cock.

It only takes a few tugs before Nottingham spills in his hand, a groan strangling in his throat as Robin thrusts through it, letting Nottingham’s orgasm trigger his own. He thrusts a few more times, making sure he’s emptied inside of him before he slips out.

For a few moments, the only sound is their heavy breathing as they come down from their highs. Robin leans back, lets Nottingham’s knees come down so he’s not bent nearly in two anymore. Nottingham’s eyes are still shut, his mouth hanging open a bit as he tries to catch his breath. He takes the chance to kiss him, sliding his tongue languidly in his mouth now, teasingly brushing along his tongue and the roof of his mouth before slipping away.

“Mmm,” Nottingham moans softly, a little smile crossing his face, and it’s not until he hears the rattle of chains that he opens his eyes.

It’s too late then, as Robin has already clasped the cuffs around a wrist, looping it around the leg of the cot and shackling his other wrist. “Sorry, sheriff,” he says, and he almost means it. He leans in, dropping a teasing kiss to his mouth, even gives his cock a fond stroke. “I hate to fuck and run, but I rather don’t fancy staying in here another night. There are so many other people to rob, you know?”

“Locksley!” Nottingham growls almost in disbelief, as if their encounters _don’t_ usually end with Robin giving him the slip. “What are you — let me out of these!” He rattles the cuffs, but Robin smiles sympathetically.

“Sorry,” he says again, wincing a bit. “But I can’t risk you pursuing me right away. It’s unfair of me to give myself a head start but,” here he shrugs, doing up the laces of his trousers and pulling on his tunic, “—I am a thief, after all.”

“You — you,” Nottingham sputters, rage lighting his eyes, but Robin is unfazed. “You can’t leave me here like this!” he finally manages, nodding towards his naked torso and flaccid cock.

“You’re right, that would be quite ungentlemanly of me, wouldn’t it?” he nods, quite seriously, and picks up an article of Nottingham’s clothing, draping it over his groin. “There, at least you’re somewhat decent. And I’ll be a good sport and leave you the keys—” he tosses them in the opposite corner of the room, cheeky smirk on his face, “—that’ll make it a little more even.”

Nottingham growls, bellowing, “Robin of Locksley, _unchain me_ right now!”

“Sorry, darling,” Robin apologizes once more, standing over his body now, fully clothed and ready to bolt. But before he goes, he leans in, steals a final kiss that’s all teeth and no finesse with Nottingham in a snit. He tweaks a nipple, gives him a little pat, and says, “Bye for now, sheriff. Always a pleasure.”

And then he’s slipping out of the cell, sneaking down the hallway as Nottingham shouts, but no one is around. Robin knows the sheriff had dismissed anyone who might be there, who might overhear their activities. It’s a mistake Nottingham has made more than once, which of course begs the question of whether it’s a mistake at all, the same way Robin wonders if he really messes up when Nottingham catches him or if he _lets_ him catch him.

Well. No matter. He’s free, again, his step lighter thanks to the heady post-orgasmic bliss still in his limbs, and Nottingham is, quite literally, a little tied up at the moment. Robin of Locksley doesn’t have many moments of happiness in his life but this certainly counts as one.


End file.
